Countdown to Chaos: Making the Monster
by Darknightdestiny
Summary: The end to a false hope, the reigniting of a suffering heart. Each tragedy builds upon the last, climbing to the surface, until finally, an attempt to right the wrong gives way to an erruption of vengeance. Vincent's story: Making the Monster.
1. Default Chapter

**Countdown to Chaos  
By Rachel "Darknightdestiny" Winslow**

**Chapter One: The Beginning of the End (Of What May or May Not Have Been)**

"I don't know what I'm going to tell him."

She sat at a desk in the darkest corner of the lab, documenting by the bright light of a small lamp that hung over her hurried hand as she wrote, the aid held to the surface of the desk by a thick, wire coil. Her brow was strained in an expression of obvious distress, and she bit her lip erratically as she scribbled in the file. Her sand-colored hair was touseled and fell out of her clip at inopportune junctions of plastic teeth, and her green eyes were dim, even though the small light cast a glow on her pale skin. She continued.

"There's no way to do this without hurting him."

"You know Turks don't have feelings, dear," her companion offered slyly.

She ignored him and went on. "I never meant for him to get that kind of impression. I'd rather be here working, but I feel so guilty." She slammed her pen down on her paperwork and looked to the ceiling for an answer, eyes glowing with defiance. "Why did he have to be such a nice guy?"

The other shuffled past her and carefully mounted a heavy box full of observatory equipment on the shelf behind her. He turned to face her with an expression that announced the answer to be quite simple, and yet it wasn't quite condescending. It didn't matter either way, because she had already lost herself again in her writing. "You can either hurt him now, or you can do it later, but if you wait it will be much worse."

"But I don't want to hurt him at all," she replied, turning to look at him.

He sighed and removed the glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose, and he began to wipe at them idly with the sleeve of his lab coat. "It would seem that whatever you do will have a terrible effect on his heart," he paused dramatically before continuing with, "if indeed he has such a thing. It appears to be more of an unhealthy obsession than genuine affection."

She gave him a scolding look. "I wouldn't call it that."

"He follows you everywhere like a lost puppy, and I find such a guise as that quite disturbing on a Turk."

"Well," she quickly asserted herself, "he thinks you're creepy too." And with that, she playfully stuck out her tongue at him, trying to lighten the heavy mood that had so quickly descended on them.

"Whatever it is that you decide to do, you should do it quickly. I don't like him hanging around all the time. It's distracting, and his meddling causes me unease. Our research is valuable, Lucrecia."

She rolled her eyes and turned in her seat to fully face him as she slung one arm over the back of her chair. "He might not be a licensed practitioner, but he still knows how to conduct himself in a lab."

He scoffed at this. "You've no need to make excuses for ShinRa's muscle. Unless, of course, you do feel something for him."

"I said it was nothing. Why do you think I've been wracking my brains all night trying to figure out how to explain myself to him? My work is suffering as well."

"You certainly are putting quite a bit of time into this," he replied casually, smirking at her. "And you're so defensive," he said with a mocking shame as he shook his head.

"Well, you're claiming that there's something there when there's not."

Disrupting the flow of conversation that she had so earnestly tried to establish with her last comment, hoping to steer him away from his arsenal of criticisms on the occupation of the man in question, he shot her a grave look in hopes that the reality of the matter would sink in. "...He murders women and children."

It was no matter that she didn't hold the same feelings as the Turk did. This still hurt her. "There are things you don't know," her voice cracked.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the shelf, staring down at her tired expression through his gleaming lenses. "I know all I need to know. The man is a hired killer, a monster. Whatever his reasons, he is still that. You cannot be worried over the emotions of a man you barely know, when all the personal information you do have about him is that he has none!"

She shook her head after some hesitation, her eyes becoming slightly wet. There was no excuse, not for all of the innocent lives lost because of the gift of a trigger finger. And that was why it hurt.

Friends, yes. She had wanted to befriend him. In all the years she had worked for ShinRa, she had never really had anyone that she could call a "friend". She had co-workers and superiors, and she had test subjects and volunteers. The same man made deliveries to their current location each and every week, and she would see the same people when she had to go into town for supplies, but she had not had any friends.

Even Hanzatsu, who she saw every day and worked with in the lab, wasn't necessarily a friend. When they worked together, he tended to focus more on what was in the beaker, or under the lense, than personal problems or pasttimes. And she liked it that way. But sometimes she wanted someone to talk to about more than just experiments and numbers. The way Hanzatsu worked in the lab was ideal for the tasks they undertook. But sometimes, she wanted to see what he was like aside from his work.

To put it simply, she was lonely. They were all a part of the same company, and it was nothing to talk to the Turk on her free time. She actually enjoyed it, and he was a surprisingly nice person once she got to know him, though he had always seemed quiet and stand-offish when in his working environment. He was actually very relaxed and calm, but there were a lot of things he never talked about, and he usually didn't open his mouth unless he was asked a question.

This sometimes frustrated her, but it wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like she had been looking for more than someone to talk to, just someone to listen. And he did that quite well. But after some time, she became curious about him as well. Their relationship seemed very one-sided, and she felt that she should offer him the same kindness. But unfortunately, he had taken her sudden show of concern as more than just that.

They talked regularly once she had gotten him to open up to her. After that, he would share things with her that he'd never told anybody- things about his home life, things about his family...why he was a Turk. Many of the things he told her surprised her, and she'd felt guilty for assuming he was like all the rest of the people in his profession. But this opened her up to the idea that most everyone was not what they seemed.

She thought the same of Hanzatsu, but every time she saw him, he was immersed in his work. She wasn't sure of how to drop a hint to him, because it was hard for her to get to understand his personality, because she never talked to him about anything that didn't pertain to their job.

Unless it was about the Turk.

She almost wished he was jealous. She had a hard time letting go of the time she was spending with him, but she had to let the Turk know that it wasn't her intention to lead him on. He was always eager to spend time with her, and no matter how subtle his expressions were, she could tell he was excited to see her. He asked her on outings on so many more occasions and was completely open and honest with her, and had even started volunteering information. But she couldn't be completely honest with him.

She knew that she had to set things right with him, and she hoped he wouldn't be angry with her, or abandon her offer of friendship to him. But she just didn't feel the same way towards him. Part of it might have been because he did what he did, but she knew that it was also because she felt something for Hanzatsu. And she saw him more often than she saw the Turk, and to be honest, she had started staying in the lab late into the night for more than the fact that she enjoyed her work. She labored on repetitive actions that could surely wait until the next morning, all because she enjoyed having him in the room with her.

Clearly, Hanzatsu hated the Turks. He used every opportunity he could get to talk about what horrible things they did, turning her words toward the subject all the time. He never missed a chance to talk about their wrecklessness, their disregard for human life, and their disrespect for themselves. He loved to make mention of their drunken revelry and the stupidity it caused, and if she was completely honest with herself, the stories she had heard were disturbingly convincing. To him, they were the scum of the earth.

Hanzatsu's voice broke into her thoughts. "What, pray tell, is on your mind?"

She shook her head again, a small smile- a fake smile- passing over her face, a fleeting shadow of emotion. "Nothing much. Just...thinking over what I have to do, what I'm going to say."

"Ah," he smiled at her, before his nose wrinkled up into an expression of distaste. "thinking about him again," he teased.

"You are so cruel." She sent an eraser his way, which he ignored as it shot past him, barely grazing his shoulder.

"He is what he is," he said without sympathy, and went back to his work rearranging equipment and setting up for the next day's experiments.

However much Hanzatsu was beginning to grow on her, she couldn't help but care for her friend; he was the first person she could call that ever since she got that job, and yet she couldn't help but feel that she'd lost that friendship already. It wasn't her fault; he had changed that relationship in an uncomfortable manner and without her consent.

How she wished everything could go back to the way it was.

"You don't know that," she said softly. "It's not as simple as you think. Vincent's..."

"A Turk?" He shot her a meaningful glance, practically ordering her to answer him.

"Well...yes." The answer was given, be it ever so reluctant.

"Well then I think that's all we need to know. He has his place. You should be mindful of yours." He patted a box of microscope pieces and casually walked away from her desk, one hand pocketed in his coat and the other rubbing the back of his tension-ridden head.

"Hanzatsu Hojo," she called after him, breaking the perfect silence that had followed their conversation. He turned to face her and lifted his chin in expectation, his ear tilted to her as if he was giving her his full attention, plus more. She smiled. "You are a tough man to contend with."

One side of his mouth lifted upwards in amusement. "You have no idea," he finished, and threw a receipt at her that he'd produced from his pocket, something he'd acquired in town that day.

She watched him go, a sigh escaping from her mouth. The next morning was going to be awful, she could feel it in her bones. She wished he could help her more, wished he would just hold her hand through the entire thing. But this was something she needed to do alone. She went back to jotting notes down on her memo pad, but her hand eventually cramped up, and she threw her pen across the room in frustration. Rubbing her temples with her calloused fingers, Lucrecia let out another sigh.

This just wasn't her week.

Hanzatsu is the Japanese word meaning, "complexity". I chose this name because Sephiroth described Hojo as being, "...A mass of complexes."

This is going to turn into a gory piece, and will be quite sad. After the first few chapters, things are going to go downhill for poor Vincent, so if you are squeamish, you may not want to get interested. It will most likely be worse than my flashback scenes in _Flirting With Death_...though I'm not really finished with that story as I write this...

Feedback is appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Countdown to Chaos**

**By Rachel "Darknightdestiny" Winslow**

**Chapter 2**

The sun beat down hard on the cobblestone walkway. The sky was a perfect, cloudless blue, but there wasn't a bird in sight. Everything was silent and still, as if it were frozen, mired in the stagnant, mucky waters of time. Lucrecia felt her heart beat wildly in her chest. The suspense was killing her, and she wished more than ever that she could have it all done with. A sudden rushing sound from the middle of the square broke the silence, and caught her attention. The water tower shone a cruel light back at her, and she shielded her eyes from the glare.

He watched her from the towering windows above, waiting patiently for what was inevitably to come. Though his confidence was complete, he was embittered by the part of her that would feel for the man; he wished he could rid her of the weakness she carried that would ultimately make _him_ out to be the victim. The only way to right the matter, the only saving solution he had in store, would be to make her feel sorry for herself, sorry for her situation, and sorry that she had ever let it get this far. And he would be her hero.

Yes, he would descend from his place up high in his mansion and take her in his arms and comfort her. And then he would put a new life into her, and make her a goddess among women, the mother of a new race, and thus secure her affections forever.

All of this Lucrecia was unaware of, as she waited for Vincent to arrive. And as she waited, she prepared herself for the worst, and tried to maintain her hopes for the best.

It was only moments before she saw his sillhouette coming over the hill. His hands were in his pockets, and his head swiveled to and fro atop his neck as he explored his surroundings. He had a bounce in his step; he nearly glided across the walkway, and when he reached the spot where she stood, he flashed her a big smile. "Hello."

"Hello, Vincent." She paused and gathered her breath. She'd have to take it one step at a time. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." He gave her a once-over, noting her coat and disheveled hair. "Working today?"

She nodded. "Mm-hmm."

He smiled again. "How long are you on break for?"

Lucrecia looked down at her feet, digging at the walkway as though it would give an inch. "Not long."

Clearly, there was something on her mind. At times Vincent could act aloof, but she was beginning to believe that was a sort of denial, rather than true ignorance. And even though he should recognize a cold shoulder when offered one, he was going to press it further, because that was the sort of man he was. His brow creased in mock concentration. "What is on your mind?"

Vincent had offered to take her out time and time again. He had been such a gentleman, treating her with respect as a lady should be treated; he let her be the voice, the character on his arm, rather than something to look at or discard whenever it loses its usefulness. He had never made a move, but he had never let up either, and this ridiculous dance was getting out of hand. "Vincent, where are you going with this?"

"You mean my asking you what is on your mind? Can't a man be concerned when a lady-"

"Don't play dumb. You do a terrible job of it. I meant, where are you going with me?"

"...I had figured that maybe, if you got some more time this evening-"

"Vincent..." Lucrecia crossed her arms awkwardly. "I don't know what impression I've given you..."

She heard him sigh, and instantly his guard was down. It seemed that this time, he wasn't going to put on a face, or pretend that he didn't understand what she was getting at. He must have known after all. "We wouldn't be having this conversation if you weren't worried about a specific impression you might have given me."

She stared up at him, unbelieving that he would be so blunt, and half relieved that he seemed to be cutting her work out for her. "Vincent, I-"

"Look. The truth is," he turned towards her, "that you haven't given me any impression as far as your feelings go. You've left quite an impression otherwise. But I wasn't fishing for resignation, or defiance, or even unusual joyfulness. I enjoy your company, and that is all. I'm a very patient man, and I can wait."

It was brief, and it was straightforward. He couldn't have made her any more aware if he had wanted to, unless he was willing to let her know how it was that he himself felt. "Wait for what?" she asked aloud, though she might have regretted it.

"For whatever is going to happen," he stated, eyes straight ahead this time.

Lucrecia sighed again, picking and choosing her words. "I don't want anything to happen." Vincent's brows lifted and he turned his face towards her, several unspoken questions lurking in his eyes. "I'm uncomfortable," she explained, "and busy. You're a nice guy...probably too nice. But that's how you are with me. I feel like there's a side of you for me, and a side of you that no one else sees. I'm not ready for that. Not with you, and maybe not with anybody. I don't know...I'm very confused right now."

Vincent seemed to be sorting things out in his head. "I understand...I suppose."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes looked hopeful; maybe she wouldn't have to worry about it after all.

"Nobody likes to go into these things without knowing what they want. Some people prefer not knowing, but after all, that is what they've chosen. You're confused." He swallowed hard. "I understand."

"I just need some space."

He nodded and faked a smile. "So...no dinner tonight?"

She let out a small, insincere chuckle. "No...I don't think that would be the best idea."

"I understand." He repeated the words again, feeling much like a humanoid robot. He reached out and took her hand, though he thought better of it once her soft skin was sandwiched between his cool fingers. "Will you be alright?" She was beginning to sob a little, though she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was the notion that, even though things hadn't turned out as badly as they could have, there was still that one door closing.

"I'll be fine." She waved him away. "Go," she added with an embarrassed smile, as she began to cry a little more. A pained expression fell over his face as his mouth opened, searching for words of comfort. "Vincent...go." She began to walk back towards the mansion.

He hesitated. "...Would it be all right if I called you later? Just to see if you're feeling better?"

She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "You know what? That might be nice." Another false smile.

Vincent turned to walk from her, wondering how she had managed to make herself feel so badly. Her feelings were legitimate; she wanted her freedom and she wanted her choices. She had been the one to cut him off from her, not the other way around. And he thought to himself that perhaps, had he done something different, things wouldn't look so dismal for either of them.

He was almost past the gate when he turned to give her one last look.

And his sympathy was replaced with rage. Not even within the door, and _he_ was already holding her tightly, stroking her honey brown hair, comforting her. As if the entire thing was Vincent's doing! And he watched from the outside, banished from her presence, not able to do a thing for her. Why not him? Why was his comfort refused so adamantly, in favor of another's? Is that what she had meant when she had said she was confused? Was that what she had meant by 'choices'? So he was pitted against this madman, and he was sworn to protect them both.

It was the epitome of outrage, the fire that outblazed every other. And he realized, as he stormed down the hill, feeling things he had never felt before, that this terrible mix of rage and heartache was the way that things were going to be.

* * *

**a/n: **Chapter 1 was replaced. I took the constructive criticism I received seriously, but I changed much more than that. Feedback is always appreciated. I want this story to be as good as it can be. I realize that Vincent may seem out of character, but I'm working from the perspective that he was not always the same person that we have seen in the game, and that something terrible happens to cause a change in him. 


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